


tomorrow

by deadpoetlaina



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, M/M, Sad, Sad Ending, anderperry, im literally so sorry, twt moots dont kill me, why do i always write sad shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadpoetlaina/pseuds/deadpoetlaina
Summary: neil finds todd's poem about him but thinks it's about someone else.
Relationships: Charlie Dalton/Knox Overstreet, Todd Anderson & Neil Perry, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 22
Kudos: 51





	tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> for my dps friends.  
> sorry in advance.

Neil was curled up in his bed, the cool winter air somehow finding its way into his dorm. His breath formed clouds before his face, yet he was so tired he hardly noticed. For the past few nights, he and his friends had found themselves reading poetry into the early hours of morning, as light began too pour into the cave where they held their meetings.

He was comfortable with the quiet of his room, only the muffled sound of bustling students outside to disturb the silence. He could feel himself begin to doze off, his eyes slowly drooping shut-

“You’re still in bed?”

The door opened quickly and banged against the wall, jolting Neil awake.

“Jesus, Todd,” Neil mumbled, rolling over to face away from his friend.

“First period starts in—” there was a pause as the other boy checked his watch. “Two minutes!”

Neil jumped out of bed in shock.

“ _What_?” Neil exclaimed, frantically trying to gather his things.

Todd hovered near the door. “Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked, almost shyly – though Neil didn’t know why he’d be shy about asking such a trivial question.

“Oh no, you go,” he said as he began to hop into his school trousers. “I’ll meet you there.”

Todd hesitated for a moment before quickly hurrying away.

Finally changed and ready to dash out of the door, Neil swung his bag over his shoulder-

_Thud._

“Shit.” Todd’s notes lay scattered on the floor. He must have left them by accident, Neil thought. He bent to pick them up quickly and as he began to tidy them up, Todd’s messy scrawl stared back at him. He hesitated, holding the pages in his hands as if they were fragile artifacts.

Todd was so secretive about his poetry that he’d combust if he knew Neil had seen any of it. He remembered just a few days ago when he tried to read some, Todd had blushed bright red, stowing them away and quickly leaving before Neil got the chance to say anything.

_I shouldn’t look._

…

But he couldn’t help it. He loved Todd’s poetry. It felt like holding a piece of him that he never let anyone see; like the sun peeking through fog, warm and bright and beautiful. Before he could stop himself, his eyes were scanning the familiar handwriting.

And it was. It was beautiful.

Neil’s face fell.

His heart stopped as he read the lines over and over and over and… 

Todd was in love. Neil’s chest tightened at the thought. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt a little bit sick.

Todd was in love. It was as clear as day, the words oozing of such powerful, overwhelming affection that Neil thought he might pass out. And the worst part of it all, perhaps, was that she didn’t love him back. Todd had poured his heart onto this page, speaking of how they – whoever they were – could never return his feelings.

Well then, she was a damn fool.

Neil’s face flushed a deep scarlet. Why was he feeling so… he didn’t know what he felt. Like a gnawing in his stomach, all his thoughts suddenly scrambled inside his head. Why, why did he feel so utterly… heartbroken.

Neil tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

_No. It’s not. I’m not…_

_Shit._

***

_Shit._

I stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. I was already running late when I suddenly remembered I’d left my notebook in my dorm. I either get a detention for not having my notes, or I get a detention for being late.

I chose the latter, and pretended it had nothing to do with the possibility of walking with Neil.

Running as quickly as I could back to our dorm, I was almost out of breath when I reached the old wooden door, and swinging it open, found Neil looking out the window, his back facing me.

“Neil what are you doing? You’re going to be late.”

The boy didn’t turn around. It might have been my imagination, but his posture seemed to stiffen at the sound of my voice.

I studied him, like I always found myself studying him. The curve of his neck, the softness of his hair – I shook my head, feeling shame and embarrassment mingle together in the pit of my stomach. I looked at my shoes. I hated how I wanted to touch his hair. I hated how he made me feel as if he were the sun, and I was just another planet orbiting his light. _I hate it I hate it I hate it._

After a long pause of awkward silence – perhaps the first awkward silence we had ever shared – I cleared my throat. “Neil?”

“You forgot your notes,” was all he said, in a faraway voice.

Another second passed before Neil suddenly seemed to snap out of his reverie. Turning around, I began to smile, when he sped past me – without a single glance.

My heart dropped. Why…

My attention turned to my notebook, where loose pages jutted out awkwardly. Heart hammering, I snatched it up and opened it, and there it was. Not where I’d left it, but sitting on top of all of my other pages, staring at me, the black ink mocking, taunting. I stared blankly at it. It took me a moment to connect the dots.

Oh God. I was going to be sick. I was going to be sick, I was going to faint, I was… lightheaded. My heart beat slowly, laboriously, trying desperately to catch up with my mind.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. He read it, I thought, he read it and he knows. Shaking, I clutched the poem to my chest, every word, every feeling for Neil laid bare on one piece of paper. He read it.

I thought suddenly of how cold he had been just moments before, refusing to speak, unable to even look at me.

_He hates me. He hates me, and I disgust him. Now he knows what I am and he hates me._

Before I could do anything else, hot tears pooled in my eyes. They fell like crystals onto the page, splotching the letters. Soon the tears became silent, shaking sobs as I think… _He knows. He hates me._

_He could never love me._

***

Night had fallen, the sky a heavy blanket of nothing. I couldn’t even see the stars through the thick clouds.

Neil came into our room and got straight under his covers without a word. We hadn’t spoken all day, and even Charlie and the others noticed something was off. Charlie had whispered something to Knox who shook his head. I wondered if they knew. If Neil had told them. But no… even if Neil hated me, I knew he would never do that. He’d never do anything to hurt me, I thought.

Hours passed and I still couldn’t sleep. I watched the outline of Neil as he shifted in his bed, guilt and fear nibbling away at my insides. Then, he slowly sat up. I quickly closed my eyes, feigning sleep. I heard the shuffle of his feet as he crept out of bed, and threw a coat around his shoulders.

There was no Dead Poets Society meeting tonight, I thought in confusion. Yet despite this, I heard him sneak out of the door, quietly closing so as not to wake me. I lay still for a long moment, contemplating going after him. But my mind didn’t seem to have a say – without thinking, I was up, wrapped up in a coat and my shoes, and my legs were leading me outside. It was cold. Actually it was freezing. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about being caught up after curfew either. All I cared was about finding Neil, even if he told me he never wanted to see me again, even if…

In the distance, the faint moonlight shimmered on the surface of the lake. In the silver of the night, I could just make out the familiar silhouette of Neil, sat on the dock. I slowly approached him, as if he were a bird that might fly away at the smallest sound.

I didn’t know what to say, so instead I watched Neil watch the lake. I stood there and I felt a bit like an idiot. Why had I come out here?

“It’s cold.” These were the only words I could find. I fancied myself a poet and that was all I could say.

“Is it?”

A pause.

Then he turned and looked up at me. And he smiled. And it was brighter than the moon. He smiled, and suddenly the knot in my chest loosened. I sat down as if everything this morning hadn’t happened, as if there wasn’t a weight still on my shoulders, and he didn’t object.

We sat side by side, looking out into the black depths beyond the lake.

“The play’s tomorrow,” I observed, sensing Neil watching me out of the corner of his eye. I couldn’t quite read the look on his face. A mixture of sadness and… something else. “Are you nervous?”

“Terrified.” He laughed his brilliant laugh, and it eased the odd tension that was hidden behind the word. “But also excited. I mean… I love it. I’ve loved every minute of it.”

I smiled. Seeing him happy made me happy.

“And thank you,” Neil said, with such sincerity in his voice that I thought I might swoon. “Thank you for helping me with my lines.”

“Sorry that I wasn’t very good at it.”

“You were amazing.”

I looked away quickly, at anywhere but his eyes that saw right through to my bones. Yet he still stared at my face, and I was suddenly grateful that the darkness cloaked my red cheeks.

I shivered, and he seemed to notice, as he mumbled a soft "here" and reached out for my hands. He grabbed them in his, and my breath hitched in my throat. They were so soft, so warm. These hands could thaw ice. My heart was beating faster and faster as I looked at his bowed head. He was looking intently at our intertwined hands, as if they held some ineffable secret that he would never quite grasp.

As he began to speak, softly, barely above a whisper, I forgot to breathe.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, in that same distant tone as this morning. I had no idea what he meant, but in that moment I didn’t care. “And all I want is for you to be happy.”

“I am,” I whispered.

“There’s so much… so much I have to say…” He trailed off, still staring at my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles.

I waited eagerly, hungry for him to continue, but as quickly as he had entered his trance-like state, he was pulled out of it. He looked up at me and offered me another radiant smile.

“But it’s late, and I have a play to prepare for.” He jumped to his feet, his hands suddenly leaving mine cold.

He turned to walk back to our dorm before pausing, casting one final glance out to the lake. “I think it’ll snow tomorrow.”

*** 

When the curtains opened, there was a hush consuming the audience.

And then he appeared. I looked up at him on that stage, and I had never seen him shine so bright. The other actors paled in comparison, and my heart swelled with pride as I saw him. For a moment, I could have sworn his eyes sought me out, landing on me, and I felt like I was the only other person in the theatre.

He was amazing. He was really amazing.

I clapped as hard as I could, Charlie screaming and Mr Keating seeming to hold back tears. I clapped until my hands felt sore, and cheered until my throat hurt. And in that moment, as he stepped up to the front of the stage to bow, I knew. I had to tell him. I had to say to him, poem be damned, that I loved him I loved him I loved him.

Even if it killed me.

Tonight. I would tell him tonight.

Yet as we poured out of the theatre, my heart ablaze, searching for him in the crowd, I saw him with Mr Perry. That light that shined so brilliantly on stage had suddenly been reduced to a flicker, an ember. He looked at me and I reached out to grab him, but he shook his head.

I was dizzy with confusion as Mr Perry shouted at Mr Keating, as Charlie lunged to stop Neil from getting in the car, as Mr Keating held Charlie back. “You’ll only make things worse.”

Dizzy. Heart pumping, I watched numbly as Neil got in the car, snow falling gently to the ground and crunching under my feet as I made to go after him.

But I stopped myself. I looked at him, and he stared intently back at me, an unspeakable misery behind his beautiful eyes.

_Neil._

_I should stop him. To hell with his father._

Mr Keating’s words reverberated through my head – “You’ll only make things worse.”

He was right. Neil was in enough trouble as it was. He didn’t need me making it worse.

I watched as the car slowly drove away, never breaking eye contact with him.

 _It’s okay,_ I told myself.

_Tomorrow._

_I’ll tell him tomorrow._


End file.
